


"If You Were Ground Coffee, You'd Be An Espresso 'Cause You're So Fine!"

by Bixiayu



Category: The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bipolar Disorder, Emotional Comfort, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Kinda Fluffy, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, barista peter parker, mentions of suicice, ok more angst than fluff, what were you really expecting from a story written by me?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 19:54:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10906359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bixiayu/pseuds/Bixiayu
Summary: Harry can't seem to shake off the doe eyed barista from the coffee shop right by Oscorp.





	"If You Were Ground Coffee, You'd Be An Espresso 'Cause You're So Fine!"

_'Please... Please just stop talking.'_ _  
_  
Harry sat grimly at one of the empty tables in the local coffee shop, attempting to finish up another paper about how environmental factors can affect an organism's metabolism. He had gotten into another argument with his father, no surprise there. Harry couldn't deal with it anymore, he just needed five minutes, alone. All he wanted was to clear his mind so he could be free of the voices outside and inside of his head just for a little while.

  
He was a nineteen old kid in college with the pressure of running a company weighing down on his shoulders. Even when he showed up ten minutes late for his shadowing of his father, Norman, he would always yell at him for it. Why couldn't his Dad give him a break?    
__________________  
" _How can I expect you to become a CEO if you're always late? Come on Harry, I thought I raised you better than this! You're an Osborn, it's about damn time you started acting like one."_ _  
_ ____________________ _  
_  
Instead of reading over some articles on what environmental factors he should start researching on, the sounds of  the never ending blabber from the barista that delivered his coffee clouded his thoughts. He had been sitting next to Harry for more than twenty minutes and hadn't stopped talking _once_ . In all honesty, Harry had already lost track with what he was saying.  
  
"So a guy walks into a coffee shop and asks the waitress: "How much is the coffee?" And the waitress says,"Coffee is four dollars." Then the man asks, "How much is a refill?" And then the waitress says, "Free, " and then the man shouts, "Then I'll take a refill!" "

 

Harry had his eyes glued to his computer screen, but he could hear and _see_ the barista start giggling hysterically at his own joke while wiping the tears of happiness from his eyes.  
  
Harry had his hands pressed to his temples as he let out a quiet sigh. He was trying so hard to keep his cool, but ever since he came into the coffee shop a couple days ago to get his morning drink and made eye contact with a doe eyed barista, it's been impossible to shake him off.  
  
It started out simple, once he reached the cash register, he noticed _him_. Fluffy hair sticking out in different directions with a red and blue flannel on. The sleeves were rolled halfway up practically hugging his arms, outlining his muscle.

 

Anyone with eyes could tell that he was cute. But Harry had no time for dating, hell, he didn't even have enough time for sleep. Harry kept his eyes up said his order. It was the same thing he had gotten every morning.  
  
_A medium black coffee. Plain and simple._ _  
_  
Don't get him wrong, Harry wasn't the sulking loner person that hated the world which was why he drank black coffee to represent the color of his soul.  
  
_Okay, maybe a little bit._ _  
_ _  
_ The real reason was fairly simple. A couple years after Harry got diagnosed, his dad found out that sugar could make him feel even worse than he already was. According to his therapist, when one has a bipolar personality disorder, an increased sugar intake had the possibility of affecting the severity of the illness. It could cause his wild mood swings to become even more rapid.  
  
So he avoided it _most_ of the time.  
  
Maybe once or twice on his really low days he would sneak a pack of chocolate and vanilla double stuff Oreos into his room and eat both of them before falling asleep.  
  
He was currently working on _not_ doing that.  
  
Once he placed his order, he expected the other man standing behind the counter to give him a fake smile while pretending not to judge him. Harry had been to dozens of other coffee shops where they gave him the weirdest looks and asked the strangest questions whenever he ordered a black coffee. (Because apparently if you order a black coffee you're a snob.)  
  
But it was completely silent between them.  
  
The brunette behind the counter was just staring at him. His soft chocolate eyes were wide open, gazing vacantly at Harry's face. His lips were slightly parted, not saying a single word.  
  
Harry shifted his weight uncomfortably. It felt like the other male's eyes were piercing through his body. It was probably as bad as the time when he got stared at by some of his Dad’s close coworkers as a kid. He was seen as an imperfection to the Osborn name.  
  
Harry scanned around the room to make sure that he wasn't hallucinating from his chronic case of sleep deprivation. He had gotten four hours on his good days and two hours on his bad ones.  
  
But everyone else still seemed to be moving, minding their own business. The world continued on, except for the barista that wouldn't stop staring at him from behind the counter.  
  
"Umm... Hello?" Asked Harry, slowly waving his hands in front of the other male's face.  
  
Brown eyes blinked themselves back to reality. "Oh? What 'appened?" The brunette finally spoke up. "Sorry I um..."  
  
The barista’s cheeks quickly shifted to a bright red. He brought his head down and shook it, trying to hide the grin growing on his face. He ran his hands through his brown hair nervously.

 

Blue eyes kept their focus on the barista. "My name is Harry…” He said. “What's yours?"

His gaze bounced up from the cashier to Harry. "Y-You want to know m-my name?" The brunette asked, his voice was in a quiet shock. "You don't know my name?"  
  
"I know your name." Harry said back slowly. He saw it on the golden oval name tag clipped onto his bright green apron. The simple name was engraved onto the tag in italics.  
  
_Peter_  
  
"I just want to make sure that you know your name."  
  
"My umm... m-my is Peter." He blurted shyly. "It's umm Peter. My name is Peter... I like to call myself Peter."  
  
Harry nodded, officially one hundred percent embarrassed by this situation."Okay." He said. " _Peter_ , can I please get my drink?"  
  
The brunette smacked his forehead, cursing quietly under his breath. "Right right... of course. Could you say it again?"  
  
"A medium coffee. Black."  
  
"Black coffee? Like... no sugar?"  
  
"No thanks."  
  
"I'll hold the sugar then..." Peter smiled, mumbling under his breath. "I bet it's because you're sweet enough."  
  
_Harry pretended he didn't hear._ _  
_ _  
_ He walked over towards one of the marble counters to get his coffee. He saw how the brunette was watching him with a poorly hidden lopsided smirk on his face. Harry did what any polite person would do, he smiled back and threw a small wave before exiting the shop. Once he checked the time he internally sighed. It looked like he would be a few minutes late, again.

  
_'Darn you cute barista for making me late.'_ _  
_  
Once he reached Oscorp, he noticed scribbling from a black marker all over his cup. Two words were crossed out with a marker, revealing a message meant for his eyes only.  
  
**Careful! Your** ~~**drink is** ~~ **extremely hot!** **  
**  
_Wrong use of your, but he'll take the compliment anyways_.

 

It would probably be one of the only things getting him through his father's constant yelling anyway.  
  
Harry had come in every morning to place the same order and somehow had the same barista each time.  
  
_Totally not a coincidence._ _  
_  
And each morning, he would find a way to incorporate his coffee puns into their conversation. They were slightly annoying, but Harry shrugged them off because he didn't mind them too much. The stupid jokes were the only things that put an internal smile on his face.  
  
_But he refused to actually laugh at them._  
______________

 _"Y'know... I've been thinking about you a latte." Peter said._ _  
_ _  
_ _"What? Why?"_ _  
_ _  
_ _"I really think I can feel something brewing between us, don't you?"_ _  
_ _  
_ _"No... I'm sorry. Not really." Harry lied._ _  
_ _  
_ _"I love the way you espresso yourself through your coffee choices."_ _  
_ _  
_ _"But I only order black coffee..."_ _  
_ ________________ _  
_  
Harry currently had a database open while working on his paper. Every single day, he asked himself why he was double majoring in biochemistry and business management. Why was he trying so hard to make a father who loathes him proud? Most times, he wondered if he was doing this entire thing for his father or himself.  
  
All of Harry's fears, regrets, inner demons were weighing down his eyelids, making it impossible to keep them open. Last night, he had gotten about an hour of rest because he had got home late from Oscorp and had an exam the next day that he needed to study for.

 

And a couple hours ago, His dad started screaming at him, again.  
  
Harry had gotten home a little later than normal from one of the business study groups. It was around ten at night when he saw his dad sitting at the dining room table waiting for him. Harry tried to explain, but his father didn't listen. He just started yelling at his son, the usual.  
  
__________________  
_"What the hell, Harry? I expected so much more from you! You come home past curfew and you have the nerve to show up late to Oscorp when you know how many brilliant young minds would kill to be in your shoes!"_ _  
_ _  
_ _"You have no reason to be stressed because you don't have any problems. All you do is slack off while I'm working my ass off to turn you into the man that I aspire you to be."_ _  
_ _  
_ _"What pisses me off, is that you got an eighty seven on your report on gluconeogenesis! This is basic and easy information that no one competent would fail. How can I expect you to run a company if you can't even get a passing grade on a damn paper?"_ _  
_ _  
_ _"Are you on drugs? Are you drinking? Or are you simply distracted? You have such fierce intelligence and you're throwing it all away! I thought you-"_ _  
_ _  
_ _"Don't talk to me like that! Please!" Harry cried. "I work so hard to make you proud of me! I don't ask questions, I don't complain, and all you do is yell at me and constantly remind me I'm not good enough. That no matter what I do, it will never be decent enough in your eyes. Every... single... day."_ _  
_ _  
_ _"Do you know how that makes me feel?"_ _  
_ ________________  
  
Harry was nearly in tears by the end of their argument. He had been trying so hard his entire life to make his father proud. But it seemed like every time he tried to do something right, his father would find a way to remind him that he was just a disappointing waste of space.  
  
Even after everything that Harry had been holding inside of him for years, he had a sliver of hope that one day his father would understand how his words were hurting him. Like a jagged blade slowly digging into his body with each insult that was thrown at him.  
  
But his father didn't understand.  
  
All Norman said was that Harry needed to take his medication. He was going through one of his " _episodes_ " and was overreacting over nothing. After he took his pills and went back to studying, he would feel better and realize that there's nothing to be upset about.  
  
Harry couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't handle the toxicity that was his father. He wanted to be alone so he could find a way to get himself together.  
  
As he raced out of his home, he could hear his dad calling after him, ~~asking~~ demanding him to come back. But Harry knew that he couldn't, how could he? Maybe he was better off alone. Maybe he was such a worthless piece of wasted potential that he was better off dead. That if he took one too many pills, slit his wrist in the bathtub, or jumped off of a bridge that all of his problems would disappear as quickly as the little unimportant life he had burning inside of him.  
  
~~_Wouldn't of been the first time he has tried._ _  
_ ~~  
Harry left stumbling in the dark, trying his best not to trip over anyone or anything. Eventually, he tossed his backpack onto the ground and collapsed inside of a dark alleyway. He brought his head to his knees and cried his eyes out for only god knows how long. He lied down on the ground, his chest hitching with every breath he painfully inhaled.  
  
Praying that one day, something could just happen that would make the agony of his existence end. He was begging whatever higher deity that maybe one day the sleeping pills would do the job, his father would finally come to his senses, or he would meet someone that would hold him when he cried and reminded him that eventually everything would be alright.  
  
It was nice, being able to cry by himself for once. Whenever he shed tears at home, Norman would tell him that he was too weak and soft and that he needed to suck it up and muddle through because life isn't fair and the sooner he accepted that, the easier the ride would be. And Harry's personal favorite quote, _"Osborns aren't supposed to cry."_ _  
_  
He was crying, peacefully, Until he realized that he had another _fucking_ paper due.  
  
And here he was now.  
  
His laptop was open in front of him. He was slowly drifting away as only two out of eight pages were typed onto the document. He was dozing off every couple of seconds while trying to keep his focus on the bright computer screen burning his eyes.  
  
The shop being mostly empty was probably one of the best things that would happen to him today. He would have to make a mental note to come here late at night again. Harry glanced down at his phone and sighed. It was getting late, too late for comfort. And he had eight missed calls from his dad.  
  
Harry pondered on the thought on why his father was so protective over him. How did a nineteen year old have a curfew of nine at night? Why did Harry have to give his father the phone numbers, addresses, and names of all of the people he spoke to at school? Why was he rarely allowed to go outside without supervision?  
  
Maybe his father just really cared about him?  
  
Or, Norman didn't want his son making any stupid decisions that could end up ruining his own reputation.  
  
Harry shook his head, trying to drown out the thoughts and the sounds of the barista rambling off next to him. The night started off quiet when he arrived at the coffee shop. Hell, he hadn't even noticed that Peter was still working.  
  
Then, it had been maybe thirty minutes when Peter, came out of nowhere and placed a black coffee on Harry's table. He told Peter that he didn't order anything, but the barista said that it was on the house and that he memorized his order.  
  
_Weird_ .  
  
Harry nodded his thanks as Peter let out a geeky smile. He watch him turn around and walk away in the direction that he came in with a slight bounce in his step.  Harry didn't know if he was hallucinating because of sleep deprivation, but could've sworn he saw Peter give himself a high five.  
  
Harry had finished the coffee a little while ago but it seemed like his body refused to cooperate. He was still falling asleep on the spot. His half open eyelids were fluttering with each shallow breath he took, trying his best not to let the deep ocean of sleep drown him.  
  
The coffee shop was mostly silent as everyone was gone. The only sounds were the rustling of objects behind the register and the soft music that played from above. Harry was the only customer still inside at this late hour. Everyone else was at home with their families who actually cared about them.  
  
Harry wished he could relate.

  
The atmosphere suddenly changed when Harry jolted as a hand was pressed softly on his shoulder.  
  
"Are you okay?" The brunette said, jumping away as quickly as Harry did. "Were umm... closing up soon."  
  
Harry knew he had to go home sooner or later.  
  
"Sorry." He mumbled, using one of his hands to wipe the obvious desire for sleep from his eyes. "I'll leave."  
  
"Are you sure you don't want to..." Peter said quietly, a grin smile raising to his lips. "Spill the _beans_ ?"  
  
Every time Harry seemed upset whenever he came into the shop into the shop, Peter would make that exact same pun.  
  
_Every_ _  
_ _  
_ _Damn_ _  
_ _  
_ _Time_ _  
_  
"I'm fine." Harry said, attempting to keep his voice leveled. He brought a shaky hand to his laptop and closed it, lazily putting it inside of his black backpack.  
  
"Do you have a ride? Peter asked.  
  
Harry shook his head. "No." He answered.

 

He could get a ride home if he _really_ wanted to. If he called his father telling him where he was, he would be there to pick him up in a heartbeat. But Harry didn't want to because he wanted a couple more minutes of a relative silence before his peaceful night would would crumble under his father's thunderous insults.  
  
"I don't think you should walk alone..." Peter said, stepping a little bit closer to the table. He fumbled slightly with his hands, shifting his weight on one foot. "It's extremely late..."  
  
"I'm okay." Harry replied. He was fine, he really was. Or at least, that's what he had been telling himself for the past nine years. With his "depressive" lows and his "manic" highs, his therapist always told him that if he believed he was alright, then eventually he would be.  
  
A wave of dizziness overcame Harry's vision as he stood up from his seat. As soon as he took one step away from his table, his feeble legs buckled pitifully under his weight.  
  
Luckily, two large and warm arms caught Harry before he would've fallen flat on the floor. They graciously helped the exhausted body up.

 

 _He pulled away._ _  
_  
"I don't... need help." He muttered bitterly, pulling himself out of Peter's grasp. He was sick of everyone always treating him like he was helpless. He had gotten enough of that during while he was growing up. He didn't want their pity, not anymore.  
  
Peter placed one of his hands inside a pocket of his jeans and ran one hair through the fluff he called hair. "Well... I-It's dangerous out there..." He said. "You shouldn't... I don't think... you should be alone."  
  
_'Does he think that I can't handle myself? Do I seriously look that pathetic and helpless?'_ _  
_ _  
_ "Why do you care?" Harry asked, a trace of an eminent sourness inside of his voice. He could tolerate the puns on a daily basis, but not this. How was he going to let Peter walk him home? Harry was pretty sure that he had more important things to do than take care of him. He was nineteen for crying out loud, he didn't need people constantly watching over him to make sure that he didn't get himself hurt. "You don't even know me." He said.  
  
"And... it would be stupid if us to actually think that we could become friends. It would just be better for the both of us if we didn't know each other." Harry mumbled. He had lost every single person he cared about. He was truly alone, a gradual downwards spiral and he could _feel_ it. He didn't want to drag anyone down with him.

 

Peter was better off with someone else.

 

Someone that wouldn't emotionally or physically drain him with, as Harry's father says, his "constant clinginess."  
  
Harry tried to walk away from the doe eyes brunette but somehow he found a way to fall, _again_ . He was pulled up easily by the arms that were being hugged by the black and white flannel shirt. A warm arm was wrapped around his waist, keeping him upwards. Harry tried to struggle out, but it was no use. Peter's grip was _really_ strong.  
  
"I guess we're both just a couple of dumbasses then." The brunette chuckled slightly, shining Harry that all too familiar friendly smile.  
  
"I'll walk you home."  
  
~*~  
  
_"You can let go."_ _  
_ _  
_ _"Nah."_ _  
_ _  
_ _"Please?"_ _  
_ _  
_ _"Nope."_ _  
_  
The two were walking along an empty sidewalk. The only sounds between them were Harry's constant struggling and the low hum of cars driving on the road beside them.

 

Peter's large arm was still wrapped nicely around the waist of the smaller male. His whole arm was a perfect fit, just like a lock and key. It was long enough to hold Harry's body perfectly with enough length left to allow him bury his body inside of Peter's if he really wanted to.  
  
"So..." Peter said. "How old are you?"  
  
"I turned nineteen a couple months ago." Harry murmured. Maybe he couldn't get Peter's gigantic arm off of him, but it wasn't all that bad. The brunette's body heat kept Harry quite warm in the cold wind that chilled his body over. "And you?"  
  
"Eighteen. I graduated high school not too long ago."  
  
"I wish I could go back to highschool." Harry mumbled out. His life hadn't been too happy during his highschool years, but it was sure as hell better than the way it was now. Well, kind of. At least before he only had to worry about school and his mental health. Not school, his mental health, and a company.  
  
"Are you in college?" Asked Peter. His intriguing eyes stared down at Harry.  
  
"Unfortunately, And I hate it with a burning passion..." Harry admitted. All of the extra stress from the deadlines assignments made him feel even worse than he already was, along with some other students thought he was a _"Rich Osborn snob"_ because rarely talked to anyone. Harry didn't think that he was better than them in anyway, he just didn't feel comfortable talking to anyone else. "It is like high school part two and I want everything to be over already."  
  
"Really? Peter questioned. "Why? I thought college was supposed to be the best experience in someone's life? With the parties and sororities and stuff."  
  
"Well... as you've probably guessed, I have no friends there."  
  
_'That sounded a lot less sad in my head.'_ _  
_  
"I don't go to any parties because i'm double majoring in biochemistry and business management while trying to run my father's company... and it's just so so hard."  
  
"Run your father's company? But you're only nineteen!"  
  
Harry shook his head. "My dad doesn't care about what I want or how I feel." His voice was low, possessing a heartbreaking sadness that made him feel sorry for himself. "It's like an ongoing cycle... every single day he tells me to work harder and do better. He yells at me basically saying I'm not good enough..."  
  
"Who is he?"  
  
"Norman Osborn." He whispered shyly. Anytime most people found out who his father was, they would stay as far away from him as possible.  
  
_It earned him the nickname of "Osborn spawn" in school._ _  
_  
"Why... Why is he treating you like this?" Peter asked.  
  
"I don't know..." Harry shrugged. "I guess I never really lived up to his standards."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
Harry looked up at the brown eyes staring down at him. Peter seemed like such a pure and genuine person. He actually seemed happy in the life that he had been given. Harry didn't want to take that away by plaguing him with all of his problems.

 

He turned his gaze to the floor, staring at Peter's black converse instead. "It's nothing."

  
Harry felt a reassuring squeeze placed onto his waist. "Come on," Peter asked. "You can tell me."  
  
"Well..." Harry began, internally shaking his head. He couldn't believe he was about to tell a stranger the sob story that was his life. "My life hasn't really been easy... I guess you could say."  
  
"And I know what you're probably thinking... my family has all the money they could ever need. How in the world how could I possibly be sad?"  
  
"But..." He hesitated just the slightest bit. If he told Peter, would he run away from him? Would he start treating him like he was different? "Money can't buy happiness or health like I wish it could..."  
  
"Are you sick?" Peter whispered, his voice dropped every ounce of joyfulness it once possessed as it became replaced with a gradual growing essence of depression.  
  
"Generally... yes." He had been holding everything inside of himself for years because he felt like he couldn't tell anyone. But now, he got a different feeling from Peter. The voice in the back of his head wasn't yelling at him not to trust Peter like it did to everyone else he first met. The demonic voice was silent for once.  "But to some people... I'm just a spoiled brat craving attention."  
  
"What do you mean?" Peter questioned.  
  
_'Please don't run away from me.'_ _  
_ _  
_ _'Please don't feel sorry for me.'_ _  
_ _  
_ _'Please don't treat me like I'm different.'_ _  
_ _  
_ _'I'm... normal. I promise you. I really am.'_ _  
_  
"Manic...depression." The words timidly came off from his tongue one after another. This is the first time he had ever talked about his condition out loud. His father always told him to never tell anyone, and he hadn't. Ever since he got diagnosed, he just let everyone label him whatever they wanted to. He never told anyone what he was really going through, how could he? "Or as you probably know it as-"  
  
"Bipolar disorder." Peter said, running his free hand quickly through his hair. Something he often did he was nervous. "I umm... studied it ... in high school."  
  
"Then I guess you must know all about me..." Osborn nodded slowly as his voice dropped to a quiet whisper. "Just like everyone else seems to."  
  
Peter shook his head immediately. "No, Harry." He reassured him. "The only thing I know about you is that you're nineteen, in college, and drink black coffee... you aren't your illness. You never were and you never will be."  
  
Harry felt a warm smile start to form on his face. That was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him in his entire life. Did someone... actually understand him for once? Did Harry actually have someone who didn't jump to conclusions on who he was because of the disorder?  
  
"Are you on any medication?"  
  
"It changes sometimes... but I'm mostly on quetiapine." Harry admitted. "I've been on and off of it since I was ten and and I don't think I would've made it this far without it."  
  
And then Peter did _that_ thing, again.  
  
The muscular arm let out a gentle reassuring squeeze that ended up tucking Harry's body further into Peter's. It was like an automatic instinct inside of Harry to just... get closer. Was this what it felt like to actually have someone who cared?

 

"How are you feeling now?" Peter asked, his voice soft.  
  
"I feel the same as always." Harry answered. "Or most of the time..." Who the hell knew that there were different types of the bipolar disorder? Harry, of course, had the second type. It meant that there were more "depressive" phases than "manic" ones. God, he hated how the physiologists already labeled him and gave his own emotions the worst names possible.  
  
To make himself feel better and avoid saying them, he enjoyed naming them after colors that they reminded him of. His sad days were blue days, and his eccentric days were something bright, like red.  
  
_Harry kinda missed his red days._ _  
_ _  
_ _The whole world had been blue for a while._ _  
_  
"If you feel comfortable..." The brunette murmured out, tearing Harry away from his thoughts. "You can always talk to me about anything."  
  
"My Dad thinks that I can't handle myself... he doesn't trust me, I don't think he ever did." Harry whispered.  "Every time I try to talk to him about something that's bothering me... he tries to give me a higher dose of medication. Or as he says that he'll find me the best therapy money can buy."  
  
"What about your mom? Do you have any siblings you can talk to?"  
  
Harry shook his head, letting the feeling of a self doubting sadness wash over him once again. “I'm an only child." He murmured.

 

All of the emotions and memories came back whenever he mentioned her, his mother. "And my mom is... gone."  Harry tried to stop it, but he couldn't. He wanted someone to kick him out of his own mind, he hated the thoughts that he couldn't deny. They were _his_. Every single one belonged to him.

 

He could never forget when he was eight, he had woken up for some reason because he felt that something was just wrong. His small feet padded over towards his parent's room and creaked open the door. He saw his father's body resting under the blankets, but not his mother's. Harry guessed that she must of been downstairs because she wasn't able to sleep, he knew that she did that often.  
  
Harry told himself that once he was finished in the bathroom, he would go downstairs and talk to her. His mother always told him that she enjoyed it when they were together. She said it gives her strength. They would lie for hours until they both fell asleep. Harry slept on her lap while her pale arm wrapped around his body, shielding him from all of the nightmares that had the possibility of infecting his peaceful sleep.  
  
He opened the bathroom door slowly, his eyes were clouded with the darkness the room contained. His hand blindly searched the wall for the light switch.  
  
_To this day, he had always regretted that choice._ _  
_  
Once he turned on the lights and saw _it_ , saw _her_ , he had never screamed her name so loudly in his entire life.  
  
The bathtub was filled with water that was overwhelmed with a deep crimson red that stained the white bathtub and the marble walls. Her body was inside the mixture of her blood and water as her silk lavender nightgown soaked up the gut wrenching red color. Harry knew that his mother was naturally pale, but not like this. Her face went completely white as her emotions were expressionless. She didn't smile often, only when Harry was around.

 

But the look he saw was completely different.

 

It's was as if he wasn't looking at his mother anymore, he was staring at the corpse of someone he once knew.  
  
_His mother was long gone._ _  
_  
And then his blue eyes slowly trailed to the part that had him shaking, screaming, and crying in his sleep for years. The skin splitting, muscle ripping, slit marks that went down her arm. It was like a river of thick blood that seemed never ending. Her hand rested on the bathtub, making a puddle that trailed her blood into the darkened pool that her body was resting in. Some was trailing down her fingers, spilling all over the tile bathroom floor, coating the silver razor blade.  
  
Harry couldn't remember how many times he screamed her name. Begging her to wake up and hold him just one last time. Or pleading that this whole thing was just a terrible nightmare.  
  
But nothing happened.  
  
His voice went hoarse as his small pale hand became red as he held her slit wrists, trying to keep as much blood from coming out as possible. He didn't know how long he was there until his father came behind him and pulled him away from his mother. When Bernard, their butler, came in, he followed Norman’s orders to pull Harry out of the bathroom and as far away from the scene as possible.  
  
Harry remembered getting bloodied handprints on Bernard's sleepwear and his hands as he was pleading for him not to take him away. He didn't want to leave his mother, he didn't want her to be alone. Because he remembered her telling him that when he was with her, she was actually happy.  
________________  
_"Please! Don't! I want to be with her!"_ _  
_ _  
_ _"She will get lonely! I need to see her! Let go of me! Please don't leave her alone... she will get cold..."_ _  
_ ___________________ _  
_  
Bernard held Harry tightly inside of his arms and shushed the young boy, reminding him that it's okay, she was in a better place now. She was fighting a battle with the demons inside and she sacrificed herself so they wouldn't be able to harm anyone else.  
  
When the paramedics arrived, Harry watched in horror as her body was pulled out of the house with white blanket draped onto it. He didn't have enough self control to look away, that was his mother.

 

_She was his everything._

  
Peter’s gentle voice brought Harry to the present. Tearing his thoughts away from that moment, eleven years ago. "Oh..." His voice lowered. "Umm... have any friends you can confide in?"  
  
"No." Harry admitted.  
  
_'God, I sound like such a fucking loser.'_ _  
_  
Peter's lips turned into a small pout. His voice sounded like a lost, like small child's. "I thought we were friends."  
  
Harry looked up towards Peter, narrowing his eyebrows the tiniest. His voice sounded slightly broken as the words felt foreign coming off of his tongue. He had never said this to anyone before, and he hoped to God that he was making the correct choice.  
  
"I thought we were more than friends."  
  
~*~  
  
"I never knew my parents, they died when I was really young." Peter admitted. "I'm lucky my Aunt and Uncle were there to take care of me... they were the best parents I could ever ask for."  
  
"I was bullied a lot as a kid through middle school and high school... but I met this girl named Gwen and she always stood up for me when no one would. She protected me through the last few years of school."  
  
Harry nodded along, listening. He wished he could relate to Peter's high school years. The brunette actually had a friend that he talked to while he was growing up and a strong support system from his Aunt and Uncle. The only "good" things he got during his high school years were SAT prep books and more pills for him to choke down.  He didn't have any one to talk to. No one really liked him for some reason.  
  
"And after I graduated I got a job so I could save up enough money for college. My aunt is trying so hard to send me, but I don't want her to stress anymore than she already does. Every since my uncle died she has never really been the same..."  
  
" and I feel that i’m supposed to be taking care of her at this point in my life because she's already done so much for me. I feel ashamed that I'm still taking instead of giving."  
  
"Oh." Harry's voice dropped. That's all he could say, he couldn't really relate to not having enough money. Not that it mattered much to him anyway, money isn't everything. Even if, It had never been an issue for his family. All the money spent on "treatment" was unbelievable. The amount ranged up into the thousands and his father had absolutely no problem paying it off. "I'm sorry."  
  
"No, don't be." Peter shrugged him off. "I applied for a lot of scholarships...so that could help."  
  
They rest of the time was spent in silence as they approached the mansion that was Harry's house. His stomach dropped when he realized the severity of the situation. It was way past nine and he had been ignoring his father's calls. To make matters even worse, he saw streaks of light come through the window and shine on the pretty rose bushes outside. Harry hoped that he would be able to avoid the conversation until the morning.  
  
"Well..." Peter chuckled slightly, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. "I guess I better go then."  
  
"Thank you, Peter." Harry said, turning his gaze away from his home. "I appreciate you taking the time to do this... it means a lot to me."  
  
"It was no trouble." He shrugged.  
  
"Will I ever see you again?" Asked Harry. When he was with Peter, it was like nothing else mattered, the whole world ceased to exist. None of Harry's self destructive thoughts were there, his problems were gone, and he actually felt happy.  
  
He had forgotten what that emotion felt like.  
  
A sly smile rose to the sides of Peter's cheeks as he took a couple steps closer to Harry, their chests were bouncing off each others while their faces were only millimeters apart. "Just come by the coffee shop tomorrow and maybe..." He whispered, stopping himself with a small kiss laid on Harry's lips.  
  
At age nineteen, he was having his first kiss and he was standing absolutely still like an idiot. He was scared to kiss back because he couldn't even keep _friends_ . Everyone he ever cared about was gone, he was all alone. He was a black hole that sucked up the happiness from the lives of others, how could he possibly put Peter through that?  
  
His father also liked to remind him that if he wasn't good enough in anyone's eyes either. _'You're too sick for someone to else to love you. No one can take care of you like I can.'_ _  
_  
"We could... schedule a... proper date." Peter whispered, His lips only inches away from Harry's.  
  
The brunette was expecting Harry to say something, anything. It took all of his confidence to kiss him, and he was praying that he didn't ruin anything between the two of them.  
  
When he pulled away, Harry brought his hand to his lips gently. The expression on his face was unreadable. Was it shock? Discomfort? Anger?  
  
Peter thought that when Harry said, " _More than friends._ " He was talking about eventual boyfriends?  
  
_Or maybe he was talking about best friends._ _  
_  
"Oh my god." Peter began. "I'm so so sorry... I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable..."  
  
"I-It's okay. It's alright." Harry mumbled out, all the color drained from his face as his cerulean eyes had hints of uncertainty and regret laced into them. "Goodnight... Peter."  
  
"Have sweet dreams?" Peter said sheepishly. "Maybe I can see you tomorrow morning?"  
  
"Umm... I don't..." Harry stuttered out. "I don't know."  
  
Peter blinked back the sadness threatening to show itself through his eyes. "What?" He asked, his voice breaking.  
  
"I-I'm sorry... but I don't think we can do this."  
  
~*~  
  
Harry took hesitant steps up the stairs towards his home. He was such a fucking jackass. Peter was so kind and sweet with him. The nicest anyone has ever been to him in years.

 

 _And that's why he couldn't be in a relationship with him._ _  
_ _  
_ He would find a way to ruin Peter like he ruined everything. Harry knew that he deserved better than someone like him. He was better off with someone that was... normal. Someone who wasn't broken, or damaged goods.  
  
Peter deserved someone who felt like they had a life worth living so when they were together, Harry wouldn't be emotionally dependent on Peter. They would both equally give back to one another.

  
_Not one person continuously taking from their lover while giving nothing in return._ _  
_  
Harry kept his head down as he took small steps inside of his house. When he looked up, he saw his father sitting down at the dining room table, slowly sipping his glass of scotch. His laptop was open as dozens of papers covered the table.    
  
He closed the door silently as he opened it, internally preparing himself to face his father's wrath, again. When Norman's eyes made contact, they narrowed as he pulled his lips away from the glass, setting it on the table. He placed his back on his chair, crossing his arms.  
  
"Finally decided to show me that you're still alive?" He hissed.  
  
Harry shook his head, biting his tongue. He didn't want another argument, he wasn't in the mood. "I'm going to sleep." He murmured under his breath, walking up the marble staircase. "I'm very tired."  
  
"Harry." Norman gritted through his teeth. He stood up from his seat and made his way towards the bottom of the stairs. "Stop and listen to me."  
  
Harry was halfway up when he stopped in his tracks. He let out a quiet sigh and kept his gaze towards the darkened hallway above him.  
  
"You know I'm only doing what's best for you." Norman cleared his throat. "You're not well."  
  
"Did you take your medication today like you were supposed to?" He asked.  
  
"Yes. I did." Harry simply said.  
  
"Well, it's obviously not working considering you had an outburst earlier today. Are you sure you did? Are you competent enough to remember?"  
  
"Yes." Harry repeated. He wasn't in the mood for this pointless interrogation session. He couldn't believe his father didn't even trust him to take a couple of pills.

 

All he had to do was keep his emotions under control, that was the only thing he was currently focused on.  
  
"It's that time of year again." Norman muttered bitterly. "Since it seems like your medication isn't working, I'll have to speak to your doctor about getting more. Until then, it's best if you don't leave the house."  
  
_'House arrest? Seriously? Again?'_ _  
_ _  
_ "What?" Harry asked, turning around to face his father at the bottom of the stair case. He could feel anger bubbling inside of his chest. "You can't keep on doing this-"  
  
"Harry." Norman silenced him. "This medication is supposed to put you in the right state of mind. You always let your moods take control of your actions so I know that can't trust you.”

  
"It's almost one in the morning and you didn't tell me where you were going... who the hell knows what you did or what you got yourself into?"  
  
"I went to a coffee shop!" Harry exclaimed.  
  
"I don't believe you." Norman shook his head. "Were you out drinking? Smoking? Doing drugs at a party?"  
  
"No, I-" He tried to explain, but he was interrupted by his father's voice.  
  
"You're not well enough to go out." Norman's voice lowered. It sounded like the decision was already made for Harry and it would be easier for the both of them if he just cooperated. "You need to stay inside until I can get you a stronger dose."  
  
"Dad, listen to-"  
  
"I told you Harry, and you didn't listen. Now you're  making even more problems for yourself. Like I've been saying for years... it's all in your mind. It's not real! Why can't you just be happy for once? It seems like you're always looking for an excuse to be sad."  
  
"This is exactly what I'm talking about Dad!" Harry said, raising his voice. "You never listen to me!"  
  
"Here you are." Norman rolled his eyes. "Making excuses, again."  
  
"No, I'm-"  
  
His father waved his hand, dismissing his son. He turned away from the staircase, resuming his seat at the table. "Go to sleep Harry. I can't deal with you right now."  
  
"But-"  
  
"Go."  
  
~*~  
  
_Harry had been tucked away inside of his room for a week._ _  
_  
His schedule had mostly been online assignments since he couldn't leave his house. At least he didn't have to spend half of his day at Oscorp.

 

He had enough time to get his work done and get more than two hours of sleep. For the first time in a long time, he actually felt decent.  
  
That was until he remembered what had happened.  
  
_Between him and Peter._ _  
_ _  
_ His mood would fall as he would have the instinct to curl up under his blanket and die in shame. He felt like such a selfish douche. Peter had asked him to come by the coffee shop the day after the kiss, but Harry never showed. He couldn't, his father had him on lock down. And they didn't even exchange phone numbers either.  
  
What if Peter hated him?  
  
Harry sighed mournfully into his pillow. The potential relationship between him and Peter was gone. Failure and disappointment were the only two things that he could do correctly. He screwed everything up, it was just his specialty.  
  
He currently lied on his bed, wearing an old black hoodie and some dark sweatpants. For once, everything he needed to do was done, he actually had time to himself. Usually, he would've spent the time going for a walk outside, but he couldn't. He had been staring at his ceiling for only god knows how long.  
  
His father left a little while ago to speak to Dr. Connors about increasing his dosage of medication. The only person who was supposed to be home was Bernard, their butler. Norman had called him over to watch Harry. He probably had very strict instructions _not_ to let Harry leave the house.  
  
_But Harry couldn't take it anymore._ _  
_ _  
_ Each moment was spent in a suffocating silence as he lied inside of his room. Watching the clock tick by, revealing how much time he had left for his miserable day to end. He was waiting for something as interesting as a power outage to happen.  
  
Nothing ever did.  
  
He just wanted to leave, even if it were for a couple minutes. It wasn't like his father would do anything to him anyways. Norman would yell at him and try to shove more medication down his throat just like Donald Menken used to say:  
  
_"Give the boy more medication to keep him in check."_ _  
_ _  
_ He was already increasing his dosage and keeping him in house arrest... so what's the worst thing that could happen?  
  
Harry gradually lifted his body out of his blankets as he rushed towards his closet. He pulled on his black leather boots. They looked weird with the sweatpants on, but he didn't really care.  
  
He quietly made his way downstairs, going down as slowly as possible. He scanned the dining room and kitchen for Bernard. Luckily, he was nowhere to be found. He probably hadn't arrived yet.  
  
Harry opened the door as silently as he closed it hearing the faint click behind him. He took a couple deep breaths in as he mustered enough confidence to go _there_ . To see _him_ after so long.  
  
_He was just internally praying he was making the right choice._ _  
_ _  
_ ~*~  
  
Peter had finished serving his fifth obnoxious customer this morning. She wanted a double ristretto venti half-soy nonfat decaf organic chocolate brownie iced vanilla coffee. She ordered him to make it snappy because she had a yoga class that started in half an hour.  
  
He kept a fake smile on his face and served her coffee even with the profanities she said under her breath about Peter and the coffee shop.  
  
The brunette internally rolled his eyes as she walked away. He let out a deep sigh as the next customer approached him. They had their head down with a hood covering their head hiding the majority of their face. The only thing Peter saw was the brown side bangs covering the left portion of the face. The other person was dressed in a black hoodie and dark sweatpants that looked baggy on the smaller person’s physique.  
  
"Hi." Peter said. "What can I get for you today?"  
  
When the figure took their hood off, Peter's whole world went silent. It was just like when he saw _him_ for the first time. When he looked into his beautiful blue eyes, he was mesmerized.  
  
"H-Harry?" He stuttered out. He didn't know that Harry actually owned sweatpants. Whenever he came in the morning, he would always look so sharp and perfect. Peter didn't think that he would ever see Harry in something as mundane as a hoodie.  
  
The other male shifted his weight awkwardly. "Peter." He said. "I can explain."  
  
"W-What are you umm... doing here? I didn't expect to see you here again..."  
  
"A lot of things happened between me and my dad." Harry explained. He couldn't say that his father put him on house arrest, that would make his family look even more dysfunctional than it already was.  
  
"Oh." Peter said simply, nodding. "So... would you like the regular? A medium black coffee?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "No." He admitted. "I came to see you."  
  
Peter's eyebrows rose in confusion. "You came to talk to me?" He asked.  
  
"I just need to explain..." Harry sighed. "I've... never been in a relationship before... and when you kissed me... I got a little scared."  
  
"It wasn't your fault, it was all mine. I didn't know how to react because I felt like if we started dating… I would find a way to let you down..."  
  
"This... _thing_ between us... is extremely new to me and I don't want to mess it up. I'm really sorry for not coming sooner and explaining my absence... but some things happened at home..."  
  
"It's not my fault?" Peter questioned. He had been beating himself up for the past week because he thought that he was forcing Harry to do something that he wasn't comfortable with.  
  
"No, it's all mine." Harry nervously said. He took a shaky inhale in as he realized that _this_ was what he wanted.

He decided that he was the one in charge of his life.

Not the chemistry of his brain, the medication, or his father.

He was old enough to make his own decisions and he wants this.

  
_He wants Peter._ _  
_  
"I'm..." Harry whispered. "I'm... ready to try again... if you are..."  
  
And there it was.  
  
That goofy smile spread across Peter's face as his usual carefree attitude returned.  
  
"I guess… since… you've turned me down before… I'm asking for another _shot_ ." He said, giggling harder and harder with each word that left his mouth."Do you wanna…  see a movie with me this Friday?"  
  
Harry felt an unfamiliar stupid grin spread on his cheeks. He couldn't believe he was actually about to say this.  
  
"As long as you promise not to _tamper_ with my heart."

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think I grasp the idea of 'Fluffy' stories.
> 
> Kudos and Comment if you enjoyed, it makes my day! :D


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